


I Know That You Are Not My Type (Still I Fall)

by wherehopelies



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-21 00:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14272635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: junksen minifics courtesy of tumblr





	1. Place to Stay

If she hadn’t just called out for Thai food, Aubrey’s not sure she would’ve answered the door. It’s common courtesy to  _call_  before you show up at someone’s place, not just swing by unannounced.

That being said, she’s glad she opened the door.

“Emily?” The poor girl is crying and only wearing one shoe, a giant duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Aubrey immediately pulls her inside. “What’s going on?”

“I…” Emily sniffles, face twisting like she’s trying not to cry harder. “I need a place to stay? Maybe. If that’s okay. If not, don’t worry. I should’ve called but you live closest to me and I just - ”

“Stop, stop.” Aubrey grips Emily by the bicep. “Of course you can stay.”

“Thank you so much, I swear I’ll be out of here by like, the morning. I just need to book a flight back to Ohio.” Tears streak down Emily’s face, and Aubrey almost can’t take it.

She moves to action. “Here, come in further. Why don’t you get changed? Would you like to take a shower? Let me take your bag.”

Emily releases the duffel when Aubrey grabs the strap, her whole body slumping in on itself. “Um, yeah a shower might be good.”

Aubrey sets to work, pushing Emily toward the bathroom and getting her a towel. While she’s in the shower, Aubrey brings Emily’s duffel into her bedroom and sets it at the edge of the bed. The Thai food comes and Aubrey splits it between two plates, filling two glasses with water and placing them on the table.

She doesn’t know what’s wrong or if Emily wants to talk about it, but Aubrey can sure as hell feed her and let her take a shower.

Eventually, Emily comes shuffling back, eyes puffy and red, but tears gone. Her hair is pulled up in a bun and she’s put on a giant Bella sweatshirt and a long pair of sweats. She seems so lost and sad.

Aubrey’s heart breaks.

“Are you hungry?”

Emily bites her lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Eat,” Aubrey demands. “You’re not intruding.”

Emily reluctantly sits at the table and they eat quietly until Emily breaks the silence. “Thanks again for letting me stay. I just - ” Her voice cracks and she clenches her fingers tighter around her fork. “Umm. Benji and I got in a fight. And, like, we broke up?” Emily sniffles again.

Aubrey frowns. “Do you want to… did he do something? Did he cheat on you?”

“No, no,” Emily shakes her head furiously. “We just, like, want different things. He, umm,” she clears her throat and shrugs. “He got a job in Nebraska and it’s really good, but I like, don’t want to go with him.”

“Oh.”

“I know I’m like a horrible person. I should support him. But leaving my job here and moving to Nebraska and just…” Emily looks up at her pleadingly. “It’s not what I wanted for my life.”

Aubrey feels a burst of anger in her stomach. “You are  _not_  a horrible person. Emily, you have to follow your own dreams and desires. And just because you love someone, doesn’t mean you have to give those up. Sometimes our paths just stop leading the same direction as someone else’s and that’s okay. But you’re not a horrible person. You’re kind and smart and compassionate.”

Emily shrugs again and helplessness swirls up in Aubrey.

“Look,” she says. “You can stay here as long as you want, okay? My bed is big enough, and if you’re not comfortable with that, the couch is comfy, and just.” Aubrey takes a deep breath. “Don’t go back to Ohio.”

“Are you sure? I can’t do that, I don’t - ”

“I’m sure,” Aubrey assures her.

Emily gives her the smallest of smiles, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Um. Okay. Thank you, Aubrey.”

“Of course.”

They finish eating in silence, and then Aubrey cleans up (Emily offers to help, but Aubrey won’t hear it), and then, even though it’s barely nine, Aubrey washes up and they crawl into bed.

She can hear Emily sniffling in the dark, quiet and sad, and Aubrey cracks. She scoots closer, some unnamed emotion swirling within in her, wanting to do something to make Emily feel even a tiny bit better or at least less alone.

She tentatively wraps her arms around the girl, and Emily rolls into her, gently pressing her nose into Aubrey’s neck. Aubrey rubs her back until Emily’s breathing turns soft and deep.

Even then, Aubrey doesn’t let go, not wanting Emily to feel sad and alone, even in her sleep.


	2. Overprotective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> overprotective aubrey

When Emily starts singing, something happens to Aubrey.

Or maybe it started happening before, but she just then realizes it. Minutes ago, Amy was rearing up to go after the girl, and now? Emily’s smiling softly at a baby and singing her heart out with the resilience of someone who refuses to be put down by anything.

Aubrey respects that. She knows a lot about being put down by others and it’s gotten to her. She knows she can be defensive and snarky and sharp. She’s better than what others say about her, but it still makes her so angry, fills her with rage and shame and spite.

But not Emily. Emily… Emily just keeps softening, keeps smiling, keeps trying to make people happy.

And Aubrey? She wants to be part of that.

//

Aubrey’s sweet on her. That’s the only way she can describe it. Emily speaks and Aubrey feels sugar coated on her tongue. Emily smiles and Aubrey melts like chocolate in the hot sun.

Amy insults Emily… and a sourness floods Aubrey’s taste buds.

“Legacy, were you by any chance dropped on your head as an infant?”

“Uh…” Emily glances away, puzzled. “Not that I know of.”

“Really? Because you’re a few brain cells shy of having the intelligence of a bumblebee.”

Emily frowns. “I think bees are really smart.”

“Shhhh,” Amy raises her eyebrows, her finger pressing to her lips. “Smart people are talking now.”

Emily just laughs, but Aubrey? God Aubrey is so … so … _mad_.

Fuming, really. Why is Amy like this? How is Emily still not annoyed. In fact, she just giggles and says she has to grab her phone charger really quick, skipping out of Flo’s room where they’re all hanging and, presumably, down the hall to her own.

“Fat Amy, I’m disappointed in you.”

Aubrey’s body is quivering with rage, and she’s barely holding it in.

“Get in line,” Amy yawns.

“Leave that girl alone. You’re always on her back.”

Amy just raises an eyebrow. The Bellas look on in surprise. “I’m teaching her valuable life skills. Like how to not share her moronic opinions.”

“Well, cool it.”

Amy laughs. “She’ll thank me for it someday, you’ll see.”

Aubrey maybe clenches her fingers so tight she leaves crescent moon nail indentations in her palm. “Amy, I swear to God if you don’t leave her the hell alone, I will shove the pitch pipe so far up your vagina you're going to queef a G sharp every time you sneeze.”

“Dude,” Beca whispers.

“We clear?” Aubrey threatens.

Amy raises her hands innocently. “Crystal.”

Then Aubrey storms out of the room and down the hall to Emily’s door. She’s about to knock, but the door opens, Emily stumbling out and into Aubrey.

“Oh, Aubrey, hey. What are you do- ”

Aubrey doesn’t know what comes over her. She grabs Emily’s face in her hands and crashes their lips together. Emily squeaks in surprise, but her arms circle around Aubrey’s waist, tugging her in closer.

“Uh. Whoa.” Emily murmurs when Aubrey finally pulls back, her cheeks hot.

“Amy is a bitch, don’t listen to her.”

Emily blinks and Aubrey can feel it on her cheeks, the slow fluttering of her eyelashes. Her breath stutters when Emily’s nose presses into her hair. “She’s just having fun. I know she doesn’t mean it.”

“I think you’re perfect, and kind, and amazing.” Aubrey’s determined now, her mind on its one track mission. “You’re talented and beautiful and smart. I don’t want you to not see yourself like that, because you are.”

Emily pulls back slightly, her head tilting in surprise. “Is this flirting? I can’t tell.”

_“No_ ,” Aubrey insists. “It’s true.”

“Okay,” Emily grins. “But it kind of feels like flirting after you kissed me like that.” Aubrey huffs, pulling back, but Emily holds her tighter around the waist, giggling. “You know, I am actually feeling kind of down. Maybe you can keep telling me how great I am until I feel better.”

Aubrey swats at her. She can feel her cheeks pinking more by the second, but she’s overwhelmed, right in Emily’s space, Emily’s eyes on hers, her smile so cute.

Aubrey thinks if Emily is gonna be like that, she’d rather just show her. So she pushes Emily back inside her room, shutting the door with her foot.

And then they’re kissing, soft and playful, Emily’s laugh getting lost in Aubrey’s mouth until Aubrey can’t remember why she was mad in the first place.


	3. Enchanted (High Society AU pt1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS INQUIRED: umm junksen prompt based on taylor swift's enchanted? idk I've been listening to speak now a lot lately and this song is too catchy hsjsjsksk
> 
> this turned into a full-fledged high society au that has Delicate and Dress sequels in my head aksjgbdwhg thank you for your time

Emily wasn’t made for this life, for the ball gowns and the galas and petty small talk.

She was made for rock shows and skinny jeans and sneaking out of the house at 2am.

“Here, Princess,” her father says, handing her a glass of champagne for the speech and the inevitable toasts to follow.

She doesn’t want to be a Princess. She doesn’t want to be here. She wants to be anyone and anywhere else.

But she doesn’t have that luxury. Not when her parents are who they are. Her mother, inheritor of the Junk family fortune and legacy. Her father, state Senator.

These events always make her antsy and anxious. The underhanded insults. Gossip and lies and power plays. Speeches and donations and extravagance that would be better spent on people who need it.

The speeches start and Emily fidgets with her diamond bracelet, a gift from her mother. How trivial this all is. How shallow these people are.

She can’t resist the urge to glance around. She knows it’s rude, knows she’s supposed to be enraptured by their key speaker, but she isn’t. She drags her eyes across the ballroom, over politicians and businesswomen and Wall Street wolves.

And then - her.

She looks just like the rest of them. Except she doesn’t. Blonde hair over sharp cheekbones, half up in an elegant and effortless kind of way. Red nails gripping a flute of champagne. A feminine and powerful suit. Pointed heels.

Emily’s staring. And then there are eyes meeting hers and Emily blushes, wants to look away, but she can’t.

The raising of a perfect eyebrow. A playful smirk. Red lipstick.  _ I could just eat you up _ , this girl’s entire look says.

_ Focus, Emily _ . 

She rips her gaze away and resolutely draws her attention back to the speaker. 

She glances back in the girl’s direction every few minutes, but she never meets Emily’s eyes again.

//

The only good thing about these events is the food.

Emily stuffs herself on o'dourves and salad and fancy finger foods. And the dessert table? She lives there. 

“Better than sex,” a voice says, and Emily almost drops her cupcake.

“Pardon?”

The girl. She’s reaching for the same kind of chocolate cupcake Emily’s biting into. “The waiter told me that about these cupcakes.” She raises an eyebrow at Emily. “Is it true, then?”

Emily blushes. “Guess that depends on who it’s with.”

“Mm,” the blonde hums, giving Emily an appraising look. “Touche.” She bites into her own cupcake and Emily watches her tongue poke out to lick at residual chocolate on her lips. 

_ Focus, Emily _ .

She tears her gaze away again. 

“I haven’t you seen you around,” the girl says. “You must be new to this world. I’m certain I would’ve remembered you.”

_ Charming, _ Emily thinks.  _ But aren’t they all? _

“I try to avoid them as often as possible,” Emily admits. “Not my scene.”

“And what is your scene, then?”

Emily pauses. The girl seems to be genuinely asking. “Like, a dive bar on the East side. Some dark grungy place with music. Loud music. So loud you can’t think.”

The girl nods minutely. Contemplatively. “Sounds like a dream. Wish I could go.”

“So go,” Emily says, like it’s simple. To her it is. 

The girl smiles. “But what would Daddy say?” She murmurs, almost to herself. 

Emily tilts her head to the side, thinking. “Come with me?”

“To a bar?” The girl asks incredulously.

“No,” Emily giggles. “But somewhere better than this.”

“I can’t leave the party,” the girl frowns, dejected and disappointed.

Emily grabs another two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. “You won’t,” she replies. “Technically.”

The girl seems hesitant, a crack in her confident demeanor. “We just met.”

“Then you can feel no guilt blaming it on me if it goes downhill, right?” Emily grins when the girl laughs. 

“I suppose that’s true.”

“I’m Emily, by the way.”

The girl delicately extends her hand, the chandelier lights above them glinting off her rings. “Aubrey Posen. It’s enchanting to meet you.”

//

“The roof?”

“I told you we technically weren’t leaving.”

“This is quite cliche of you, Emily.”

Emily just laughs. “Is it working?”

Aubrey pauses for a long moment. “Maybe.”

Emily beams.

//

Aubrey stares wistfully out at the city lights. Emily stares wistfully at Aubrey.

“It’s pretty,” Aubrey murmurs.

“It is,” Emily agrees.

They drink their champagne and they don’t talk about the party. They don’t gossip or talk about money or politics or what their parents do to get invited to such events.

They talk about New York. They talk about college. They talk about music.

Emily’s chest constricts every time Aubrey smiles. Their hands brush and Emily shivers.

“Are you cold?” Aubrey says suddenly.

And Emily shakes her head, but Aubrey’s already taking off her suit jacket. She drapes it over Emily’s shoulders and rests her arm behind Emily’s on the roof. Emily leans back into her.

They’re close. Emily can smell Aubrey’s perfume or shampoo whenever the wind blows just right. She wants to reach out and feel the material of her white shirt.

When she glances up, Aubrey’s eyes are on hers, intense and dark.

Emily’s breath stutter-steps, tripping over itself, her lungs clumsy with night air and Aubrey.

“Hmm,” Aubrey hums, her teeth biting over her lower lip. Emily’s wonderstruck, staring at this person, this girl, this  _ phenomenon  _ of a woman.

She’s not Emily’s type. Not this elegant, worldly affluence personified. 

And yet -

She closes her eyes, the space between them disappearing in an instant.

A loud laugh from below jerks Emily backward. Her cheeks burn and she peers over the edge of the building, watching as party-goers spill out into the night, silhouetted against the light of the building.

“Party’s over, I guess,” Emily whispers lowly.

Aubrey still has her eyes closed and she blinks them open. “I’d forgotten there was a different world inside.”

“Me too,” Emily murmurs.

“I had better go,” Aubrey says, regret in her tone. 

Emily reluctantly gives her suit jacket back. “Guess so.”

Aubrey hesitates, then she presses her lips to Emily’s cheek. “Thanks for the adventure. See you around. Or not.” Her confidence unfolds around her, like Emily can almost visibly see her zipping herself up in it.

Then she’s smirking again and disappearing back into the party. 

Emily takes another glance over the edge of the building, and follows behind her.

//

Emily’s distracted on the drive home. Squished between her parents in the town car, she drowns out their gossip and party criticism.

She’s thinking of Aubrey, of their almost kiss, wondering what would have happened if they had.

Emily doesn’t want to hope, doesn’t want to think this is the first page of some kind of story. Not in this world, where everything is vapid and not what it seems. 

Still she wonders, thinking of the sparkling of Aubrey’s eyes, the warmth of her arm behind her. Steady, like someone you could lean on.

_ Please don’t be in love with someone else _ , Emily thinks.  _ Please don’t have somebody waiting on you. _

“...fake as Charlene’s fur jacket, is what they are. Despicable. Giving some bullshit about making the city safer and he’s what? Helping Wall Street criminals get off on technicalities.”

“I know dear, the Posens have always been like that. You remember how my father…”

Emily jerks back into the present.

“The Posens?” She interrupts and her parents look at her.

“Yes. George Posen, he’s the one who was giving the speech, darling.”

“Oh…” Emily hadn’t been listening during the speech.

Her father hums disapprovingly. “Best criminal lawyer out there. And by that I mean the worst. He’s gotten more rich murderers and thieves off than anyone. Making the city safer… Ha. I’ll eat my arm if - ”

Emily tunes out, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

She’s so stupid.  _ This  _ is why she doesn’t come to these things.

Her phone buzzes in her clutch and she pulls it out, seeing a text from an unknown number.

_ Emily - this is Aubrey. Aubrey Posen. _

Emily drops her phone facedown in her lap, glancing around to see her if her parents saw the text. But no, they’re preoccupied griping about someone new now.

She flips her phone back over.

_ How did you get my number _

_ You could say I have connections. _

And Emily wants to scoff, wants to tell Aubrey to not talk to her, to delete her number immediately.  

But then her phone is buzzing again.

_ I just wanted to say thank you again. Tonight with you felt like a different world. I truly felt like a different person, like someone I actually enjoyed being for once. So just... thank you. And if it wouldn’t trouble you, I’d love to see you again - Aubrey _

Emily frowns, trying to ignore the way her stomach flips, they way her lips want to pull upward.

She hesitates, her parents opinions ringing in her head, her dislike of the way this world exists like a waltz, back and forth and spinning, a tightrope to walk until you fall or soar.

_ I’d like that _ , she says at last.  _ I’d like that a lot. _

And she somehow finds she means it.


	4. Delicate (High Society AU pt2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey had built confidence from inherited looks, she manufactured power from inherited money. She sculpted her reputation out of marble, a masterpiece for those to admire but never touch.
> 
> But then - Emily. One night, one touch - one look - and Aubrey would have been content to tear it all down.

The taste of nervousness is unfamiliar to Aubrey. She rolls it around in her mouth, twisting her lips and trying not to bite her fingernails.

_Don’t be undignified, Aubrey,_ her father says in her head.

_Relax, Aubrey_ , she tells herself.

She’s not relaxed, and she knows it. Has been pruned her entire life to look it while not being it. Her fingers clench around her cell phone, and her foot taps under the table, but if you couldn’t see those things, you might say she was simply bored.

Her back is straight, but not tense, her eyes alert, but uninterested.

Her outfit - a little fancier than the place would suggest, but Aubrey is a firm believer that there is no such thing as overdressed.

_Relax, Aubrey,_ she repeats. _This is just a bar._

But it’s not the bar that has her insides twisting, although her father would scoff at the place, would look down his nose at Aubrey for even considering stepping foot into such an establishment.

But no, it’s not the bar. It’s who she’s waiting for _in_ the bar.

Aubrey Posen does not get nervous, but she doesn’t feel much like Aubrey Posen when she’s thinking of Emily Junk.

And she can’t _stop_ thinking of Emily.

Aubrey’s possessed by her. Thoughts of Emily distract her waking hours and dreams of her haunt her restless nights.

She’s replayed their evening over in her head time and again. She’s combed the internet and social media for every piece of information about the girl. She’s been glued to her phone for weeks, replying to all of Emily’s texts in an instant.

She is exactly what her father would call undignified.

And she doesn’t _care_.

That’s the most infuriating part. She just doesn’t _care_. Her image, the way people see her, this is what her father raised her to see as her most crucial form of currency. Money, yes, important. But her reputation? Invaluable.

“Your reputation will get you places money cannot, Aubrey,” her father would say. “You must tend to it like a garden. You must grow rose bushes that hide thorns, and most importantly, know when to show both.”

Aubrey had taken this lesson to heart. She built confidence from inherited looks, she manufactured power from inherited money. She sculpted her reputation out of marble, a masterpiece for those to admire but never touch.

But then - Emily. One night, one touch - _one look_ \- and Aubrey would have been content to tear it all down.

Aubrey has always had plans, a path to walk toward success.

Now she’s in uncharted waters, and she doesn’t know if she’ll sink or swim.

_Sink_ , she thinks the moment she lays eyes on Emily. _Drown and be glad for it._

Aubrey was made for galas and ball dresses and empty smiles. She wasn’t made for bars like this.

But Emily - she fits into the place like she was born fully-bodied in this very spot. Her hair in a high and flowing ponytail, her jeans, tight on her long legs, her smile, like a breath of fresh air, like _easy_ and _perfect_ and _home_ -

_Relax, Aubrey_.

“Hey,” Emily beams at her and Aubrey’s nerves kick into high gear. She stands from her table to shake hands or just as a social courtesy, but Emily wraps her arms around Aubrey’s neck, pulling her into a hug.

Even in her Nikes, Emily’s taller than Aubrey in heels. She can feel Emily’s nose at her hairline and her chin against Aubrey’s cheek.

When she pulls back, her smile is so full and genuine, and Aubrey lets it fill her up, the way Emily isn’t like Aubrey, the way she isn’t stiff and calculated and… and _fake_.

“It’s good to see you,” Aubrey says, and she means it. She means it more than she could possibly convey.

“I love your hair like this,” Emily gushes, her fingers tugging at the wavy locks that Aubrey didn’t have time to straighten to perfection because she’d been too out of it pacing around her room to get rid of her nerves. “It’s totally unfair how gorgeous you are.”

“I - stop,” Aubrey murmurs. Aubrey is gorgeous, she knows it. People tell her all the time. She’s polished and collected and -

She’s mush, a total puddle, enamored by everything _Emily_.

_Relax, Aubrey, Jesus._

“Let me get you a drink,” Emily says, and she’s tugging Aubrey’s hand, pulling them toward the bar. She orders a beer, and Aubrey’s go-to is a martini, dry, extra olives, and she’s opening her mouth to say that but what comes out instead is -

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

She doesn’t feel much like Aubrey Posen around Emily.

And she likes it.

//

“This isn’t really what I imagined when you said you were going to show me a bar,” she says later. “I was under the impression you liked them so loud you can’t think.”

Emily scrunches her nose in a laugh. “This is better for talking.”

“Only if you lean in really close,” Aubrey points out, and it sounds like she’s complaining but she _isn’t._ God, she isn’t.

“Well I wanted an excuse to be close to you,” Emily counters, her hand on Aubrey’s thigh, Aubrey’s arm behind her in the booth. Aubrey is _very_ aware of the distance between them. It’s not much, and still, it feels too far.

She meets Emily’s gaze. “Your forwardness is kind of alarming.”

“Is it working?” Emily giggles, and Aubrey’s stomach swoops.

She takes a second to compose herself, doesn’t want to give herself away with a trembling voice. “Maybe,” she says at last. It’s all she can manage.

Emily grins, her eyes focusing on Aubrey’s, and Aubrey’s nerves flutter in full-force.

“I changed my mind,” Emily says after a second.

“Did you?” Aubrey has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Yeah,” Emily nods, her voice so low Aubrey almost can’t hear, her breath on Aubrey’s lips. “Talking’s overrated.”

When they kiss, Aubrey forgets her own name.

//

“I’m not sure I understand,” Chloe’s saying, staring at Aubrey in the mirror.

They’re in Chloe’s apartment, sitting at her vanity. She’s doing Aubrey’s hair, one of her favorite hobbies, and just chatting. It’s easy, familiar. Maybe the one place Aubrey feels good about her father’s influence on her life. Without her father, she wouldn’t be friends with Chloe.

“Why would you want to date someone who makes you feel unlike yourself?”

Aubrey twists her hands in her lap. “No, not unlike myself. Just… not like Aubrey Posen.”

Chloe frowns. “I don’t see how that’s different.”

And Aubrey can’t explain it. She _can’t_. She knows it sounds crazy, knows it doesn’t make sense, knows Chloe genuinely wants to understand, because that’s who Chloe is, Aubrey’s best friend since they were toddlers.

Chloe thrives in this world. Not in the same way Aubrey lives here, with effort and planning and careful steps. Chloe exists here with ease. She always has. Always has been a daddy’s girl, happy and bubbly and well-loved by even the worst of the gossipy New York housewives.

Chloe never had to try to be this perfect version of herself. She always was that, and Aubrey both loves and envies her for it.

She just can’t relate.

“I just like her, Chloe, okay?”

Chloe laughs at Aubrey’s sharp tone, always immune to it. “Okay,” she chirps. She runs the brush over Aubrey’s hair. “Is she hot, then?”

“Chloe.” But Aubrey laughs, laughs in the way only her best friend can make her. Chloe raises an eyebrow playfully at Aubrey in the mirror and Aubrey rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she’s hot.”

“Like Megan Fox hot or like Zooey Deschanel hot?”

Aubrey scrunches her nose. “I don’t know. Like Cara Delevingne hot. Or… Gina Rodriguez.”

Chloe smirks. “Let me see a picture.”

“No,” Aubrey scoffs.

Chloe rolls her eyes. “You know I can just stalk her Insta right?”

“Whatever,” Aubrey grumbles and reluctantly shows Chloe a selfie Emily took on their last date.

“Oh shit,” Chloe whispers.

Aubrey nods. “I told you.”

“No, not her. You. You’re hot, oh my word.”

Aubrey laughs, her cheeks flushing. “Chloe.”

“How come you never smile like that around me? Is it love, Bree?”

“Oh my God, stop.” But she can’t help the smile that breaks over her face.

Chloe laughs, full and teasing. “It _is_.” She sets the hairbrush down on the vanity and puts her cheek up against Aubrey’s. “Well, that’s that, then. I _must_ meet her.”

“Must you?”

“Of course,” Chloe smiles. “You know it’s been ages since I’ve met anyone you’ve been dating.”

“That’s because I don’t usually date anyone worth knowing.”

Chloe scoffs. “And that’s a damn shame. Your good looks and beautiful heart, completely wasted. And your _ass_! Truly a travesty.”

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“For _my_ ass, duh.”

Aubrey shakes her head in amusement. “God you’re something.”

“You love it,” Chloe laughs.

“No, I don’t,” Aubrey says, but she does.

//

They’re taking it slow, and Aubrey likes it that way, but there’s something about Emily lounging on her couch with her nose in a book that makes Aubrey feel overwhelmed.

She’s supposed to be cooking dinner for them, but she can’t stop staring.

“I can’t see you tonight, I’m sorry,” Emily had said over the phone. “I have too much reading for class.”

“Come to my place,” she’d told Emily. “I’ll cook you dinner and we can do work together. No distractions.”

However, seeing Emily like this, in sweats and a t-shirt, her hair falling gracefully over her shoulders, eyes moving frantically across the page, has Aubrey really wanting to distract her.

It’s just that she’s never felt at home in this apartment. It’s temporary, close to school and small. She barely has any decorations, just minimalist furniture her dad had deemed “cheap but classy.”

But having Emily here, comfortable, relaxed… Aubrey thinks this place could be a mansion with a five star view. It could be somewhere she calls home, somewhere she actually enjoys spending time.

These feelings gather inside Aubrey like a storm. These are not safe feelings. These are Big feelings.

And this thing between them? She’s not sure it’s ready for Big feelings. She knows it’s still kind of new, still delicate, this careful navigation of the space between them.

Sure, they text all the time, and see each other almost daily. They make out in Emily’s quaint apartment in the Village and Emily makes her laugh and looks at Aubrey like she’s _perfect,_ like she’s exactly what Emily has been looking for.

And maybe Aubrey is. And maybe it’s love. Or maybe it’s getting there.

But their lives are more complicated than that, as it’s made clear to Aubrey when Emily gives her a look at dinner, questioning and open.

“I saw in the paper that your dad won his case,” Emily says, and Aubrey almost flinches because they don’t talk about these things. They don’t talk about their families, about Emily’s previous life in Ohio, the types of people she dated back home, although Aubrey’s seen the long list of them on Facebook. They don’t talk about Aubrey’s dad, their family reputation and the flack they get in the news, criticism and hatred alike, although Emily surely hears about it often.

No. They don’t talk about this stuff.

Perhaps it’s too delicate. Perhaps they wanted to pretend just a bit longer.

Perhaps that’s over now.

“Yes,” Aubrey says, zipping into herself. “It was a successful trial.”

Emily hums thoughtfully, stirring pasta around her fork. “Do you think you’ll follow in his footsteps someday?”

Aubrey has been trained for this question, too. Carefully perfected the response in the mirror. _I guess time will tell_. A charming laugh, an evasive smile. She’s said it more times than she can count.

“I don’t know,” she replies. Off-script. Emily always makes her go off-script. “I think he wants me to.”

“Well, what do you want?”

_Literally anything else_ , Aubrey thinks. “Honestly?”

Emily scrunches her nose. “Of course.”

“I want to be a journalist.” She’s dreamt of it so long it could be a mantra. She’d fantasized about it long before she applied to Columbia’s J School, long before she was accepted. She doesn’t know what her father thinks of her current education besides his pride at the Ivy League title.

He’s never asked about it and neither has she.

“Well, yeah,” Emily smiles. “I figured.”

“I mean,” Aubrey exhales. “I want to use journalism to bring people to justice. People like… people like my dad.”

“Oh,” Emily says. She sets her fork down carefully, her gaze on Aubrey. She’s so pretty, Aubrey thinks, admiring the perfect slope of her nose and the dark of her eyes. “That’s great, sweetheart.”

Aubrey’s stomach drops. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Emily smiles, her hand reaching across the table to settle over Aubrey’s. “I think you’d be awesome at that.”

Aubrey closes her eyes, inhaling deeply before she looks back at Emily. “Em.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m nervous.”

Emily tilts her head to the side curiously. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Aubrey’s insides twist. The moment feels fragile, like she might say the wrong thing and this will all break. “I don’t want you to get scared and leave.”

Emily’s eyes widen and Aubrey doesn’t understand how Emily makes her like this. Makes her vulnerable and soft and … and … not like the Aubrey Posen her father raised her to be.

“What do you mean?” Emily asks, patient, her fingers weaving between Aubrey’s with care. She’s brought her knee up to her chest and Aubrey thinks how her father would hate that, hate such a horrible display of manners at the dinner table.

Aubrey loves it, feels drunk on it almost.

“My family isn’t easy,” Aubrey explains. “I know how people see us. I know that being associated with the Posen name can cause trouble.” She shrugs. “I just don’t want to get too far into this and have you freak out and go, because I really like you. But I get it if you want to. Dating a Posen isn’t easy. I know that.”

A small smile lifts the corners of Emily’s lips. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes,” Emily says. “I really forget you’re a Posen.”

Aubrey huffs out a laugh. “Must be nice.”

“I’m serious.” Emily squeezes her hand. “You’re not _Aubrey Posen_ to me. You’re just Aubrey. And I really like Aubrey. I really like _you_.”

“You do?”

“ _Yes_.” She gives Aubrey a fond look. “We spend every day together, Aubs. Do you really think I don’t like you?”

Aubrey rolls her eyes at herself. “No, of course I - of course I think you _like_ me. Stop - stop giving me that smile. Stop it.”

Emily just smiles bigger. “Then what?”

“Nothing. No.” Aubrey picks up her fork again, but Emily is still looking at her and it’s… it’s overwhelming. She’s just so _much_. “I just don’t feel like Aubrey Posen around you.”

“You don’t?” Emily asks, truly puzzled. “Who do you feel like?”

“It’s like you said,” Aubrey murmurs, embarrassed. “I just feel like… like, Aubrey. I don’t know.”

Emily smirks, this small, gleeful little smile that has Aubrey’s stomach in knots, working her up.

_Relax, Aubrey._

“Hey.” Emily rests her chin on her bent knee, looking at Aubrey softly.

“Hey, what?”

“Be my girlfriend.”

Aubrey freezes. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Emily laughs. “You know, like I don’t see anyone else, and you don’t see anyone else, and sometimes I spend the night here and when we wake up we have breakfast together.”

“I know what - I know what it is,” Aubrey huffs and Emily just laughs, twirling some more pasta around her fork and stuffing too much in her mouth. Her cheeks puff out with it all. “Your teasing is _so_ unasked for, Emily.”

Emily raises her eyebrows playfully. “Is it working?” She asks through a full mouth.

Aubrey wonders if this is love.

_Relax, Aubrey._

“Yeah,” Aubrey says. “Yeah, it is.”

Emily beams, pasta in her mouth and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've made this au into its own work. if you'd like to read the next parts, they're at this link :) thanks
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661042/chapters/33870105

**Author's Note:**

> send in your junksen prompts if u like. emilyjunk.tumblr.com. always accepting pitch perfect prompts!!! not always writing them


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